Lost Soul
by WrittenPhoto
Summary: As Dad would say, abandon her at the roadside, for there is nothing left in a Lost Soul. For a Lost Soul cannot give directions when they themselves cannot give direction for themselves.
1. Prologue

She awoke with a stomach that was hard, filled with frozen ice. The bloating of it made her take several short quick breaths that stabbed the expanding skin in sharp thrusts of pain. Cooped up in my bed, laying with her back against the brown sheets that were stretched across the bed that was shoved against the far wall in my bedroom. The blinds on my window were heavy fabric that I pinned up with thumbtacks to keep out any light that would impose me while I tried to sleep. A phone in the house rung, and I softly groaned, watcher her rolling over on her stomach and trying to ignore the pain in her bloated stomach. I was at home to watch my older sister, who I had awoken to find a bite on the stomach, puss flowing from it in waves, bandages tightly strewn to it. Her name was Ophelia, and she was twenty seven years old.

I got up slowly and warily watched her, the phone creating a shrill ringing in the house. I cradled my chin in my hand as I put the yellow hang on to my ear, the kitchen tile squeaking from rotting wood. Pure silence on the other line. Nothing. A breathy rasp came forth and I slowly lowered in from my ear and towards the cradle.

"Jamie!" Ophelia's groan rang through the house, then loud coughing came forth. I hung up the phone quickly, jogging towards my room at a fast pace. She was bended over, gagging, trying to get something out of her lungs or stomach. I sat down on the stool and lifted her slowly up, her eyes slowly cringing at the pain. Her body hunching over. My hand slowly rubbed her back.

"What did you want?" my hand moving her choppy hair away from her sweat soaked face.

She didn't answer, she began gagging heavily now. I grew shocked when she began coughing blood, It wasn't the scarlet liquid that was seductive in vampire movies, it was a bright red, only slightly dulled by my brown sheets, yet it was quite visible by the white bucket I used.

"That's it." I whispered, my throat closing up. I grabbed her arms as she yelled in pain, throwing an arm over my shoulder, I dragged her out towards the truck. Her feet dragged over the wooden floors, and blood trailed from her mouth.

"Please, stop." She groaned while I pushed her in the passenger seat, her hands cradling her injured stomach, she was in a sports bra and gym shorts. "I can't go… stop it." He teeth gritted in great pain that I couldn't even fathom to understand.

"No, we're going." I jumped to the other side getting into the passenger seat and starting the engine in quick motions, backing out and almost hitting a lone car down our street.

"Stop… he'll get mad.. stop."

I didn't.

* * *

He was handsome, I knew that much. Ophelia gushed on and on to me about him, telling me that she thought he was the one, thought that she finally would be able to escape from the deli for once. She mentioned that his face was scarred slightly, but she didn't care. It sort of scared me off, I judged mostly by looks first, before personalities. But honestly, these thoughts I thought, as soon as they came, they left like the wind in a rush to lunch.

"Jamie Erne?"

My head popped up from the waiting room, watching a nurse approach with straight blonde hair, her scrubs were tight and decorated with puppies.

"Yes?"

She looked down at the clipboard and crouched down to me, putting a hand on my knee. It made me uncomfortable, this reminded me of the time they told my Great Grandma died. It didn't affect me since I was so young, but now I'm… older, and more aware, especially for my sister.

"Ophelia was sent into surgery, and they're removing any infections from the wound on her stomach." She moved the clipboard slightly away from her breasts to look at once again. "She's stable at the moment. But this wound was not self-inflicted, so the police department are here to get a statement."

I started when she insinuated that Ophelia could try to kill herself. She wouldn't do that! Everything was turning around for her! I just.. she would never do that! What about that handsome man?

I barely noticed when the nurse left me, for I had my head in my hands. I just… why?! I shouldn't be doubting Ophelia, she never gave any indication that she wanted to die… why am I assuming now? What is wrong with me? Ophelia. She would never do this.. but this doubt, its flowing all through me, just because they think she had the thoughts for doing something like this.

Maybe I should try and find out if her man is somewhere around Beacon Hills. He must live close if she leaves the house often just to go and see him.

"Jamie Erne? I'm Sheriff Stilinski."

My head bolted upwards and I found a middle aged man looking at me in a police officers uniform. He kneeled in front of me just like the nurse, but he didn't reach out for any contact. Nothing to try and comfort me. My sister was dying, and everyone knew that. They just didn't want to tell me.

And for some reason, with the whispers, and not with them trying not to tell me, I just felt it in my gut. I wasn't a seer like those old fairy tales where everyone turns out alright just because they knew what happened with everything.

"Jamie? It's alright, everything will be fine."

No, I didn't think it would be. I don't think you know how the world works. At least, not in my eyes.

"Could you just.." He sighed. "Answer me?"

I sucked in a breath, and looked at him, his eyes were soft; and I recoiled at the bitterness my eyes must have been reflecting.

"Sorry." I muttered. "Just.." I moved my hand in a small motion. "Ask away."

The said man pulled out a notepad, and began those questions that just.. they seemed to trivial compared to the whole situation, the whole… big thing of this. Panic welled in my chest, but I didn't let it go, I held it down. Dad taught Ophelia and me that bottling things up sometimes is just what you have to do, and breaking down right now isn't going to help her.

"Do you know what happened to cause this?"

I shrugged. I really didn't know. "She just.. she left home last night fine, really happy. More so than usual. Then I woke up this morning, and she's screaming in pain in my ear. She ended up in my bed somehow, and I don't know why." I paused, gulping in a breath. "I have school in a week, I was staying home and getting all of my homework from summer done, I just," I groaned and let my head fall into my hands. "I don't know."

The man stopped scribbling on a notepad and patted my back, slowly getting up. "Is that all? She didn't do anything else that might…."

"I'll be sure to tell you." I interrupted quickly. There was nothing more that I could say to this man, nothing that would help Ophelia at the moment.

"If I find anything that could in any way be related to this, I will contact you immediately."

I looked up, was that revenge being slightly hinted at? I didn't want revenge, revenge was a nasty thing that would snap its jaws back onto you the moment you thought you were finished with it.

"Thank you sir."

And I proceeded to stare at the bleached tiles of a strange smelling hospital as he walked away, determined to find out what was the cause to this.

For a young girl such as I should never be caught in this kind of situation.

* * *

My head popped up yet again when a male nurse shook my shoulder, then quickly motioned for me to follow. I did so gladly and peered anxiously at the rooms that had nurses in them, and a few families simply visiting and bringing flowers. I was scared. I would not deny this fact. I wasn't ready to see her, what if she was on her death bed? What if she..?

"Her condition isn't great." The nurse interrupted me quickly. "But the hope is that she'll pull through. She's asleep right now, but she should get up soon. Feel free to stay the night here."

And as soon as he said that, he opened the door and ushered me inside, closing it behind me. The lights were dimmed since it had turned to night without my notice till I looked outside to see the stars glittering with a half moon. The shutters were drawn and the room was bathed in darkness besides a light with a dim light bulb at her bedside table.

She didn't look better. Her skin was pale, and her lips were chapped to flakes. Speckles ran from the edges of her mouth where blood had flown only hours ago from her lips. There was a steady beeping from the machine by her bed, and her eyelids moved rapidly from the dreams that occupied her brain.

I was tired, she was sick.

I was extremely tired, and she was very sick.

I was alive, and she was dying.

And she was Twenty-seven years old.

I pulled a stool with a small clatter to her bedside, picking at the thin and scratchy linen that was draped over her body in a neat way. I rumpled the edge a little bit, seeing a stray string that allowed me some small comfort that this building… no room, was not perfect. Pulling her hand in my two, I examined it carefully, it was pale as was the rest of her body. But her veins. I pulled my face closely to it, watching it with a precision I did with my homework yesterday. Blue veins, they contrasted harshly with her skin and seemed to pop out. Even the tiny ones.

She was… dying really, I've accepted the fact that she is, and there will be no other roads in which she can take to get off this path. As Dad would say, abandon her at the roadside, for there is nothing left in a Lost Soul. For a Lost Soul cannot give directions when they themselves cannot give direction for themselves.

It was the middle of the night that she woke up. She didn't offer last words, she simply smiled at me and looked out of the window that showed the starry skies with the half moon seemingly mocking her with its Cheshire grin.

Although, when she heard the machine slowly sweep to very slow beats, panic arouse on her face. And that was what scared me the most. I thought she would go peacefully, alone, rocking quietly with a content smile on her face. But she weakly tried to struggle, and as soon as she did, I tried to offer calmness in her worry. Small tears slipping down my cheeks.

'please don't leave me.' I wish I had whispered, I wish. For the next moment, I was being dragged out by yelling male nurses, and women trying to calm Ophelia down, the beeping slowly turning to a static noise. I tried to yell and get away from them, and this caused such a disray that many people stepped out to watch. But I couldn't see anything, my straight brown hair was blocking my eyesight, blinding my rage to find my sister in her last moments. But when that static reached my pounding ears. I just knew it was over.

I was truly, and utterly alone.

* * *

Fun fact, I only know why blood is bright red because I work cows that tend to bleed when their horns are cut off! There's the fact of the day!

Another fun fact! I also know how to cauterize a wound too!

Some big obvious foreshadowing is thrown into here too, it would hit you with a frying pan if you haven't seen it. (Sorry, just took english finals, all the foreshadowing and allusions make my brain automatically pick them out now.)

My fanfiction ideas are bursting off the walls, and here is one of the many. *bounce bounce*

Have a nice time watching new episodes and have fun! This'll start at the first season so no worries about spoilers.. unless you haven't watched it.. which you shouldn't even be reading this… buttttt, I do the same things with tons of things, walking dead? Knew everything that was gonna happen because of fanfics.

-shrugs-

Its okay sometimes, I could probably recite the entire lines of Stiles and Scott in the beginning of Season One. Fanfiction just does that to people.

Well then! Have a nice one, and.. uh.. eat ice cream, it's good for ya.


	2. Bitterness

The first day back to school, it was well… unremarkable.

As was the rest of the year.

* * *

The first day after Ophelia died, was for the lack of better terms, normal and quiet. My house was quiet, and so was the hospital. The pristine floors and walls smelled of cleaner and pine sol. My butt ached from sitting in a fetal position, my plaid blanket wrapped around my body. It was tight around my shoulders, and loose and flowing around my torso and legs. The hospital was run of the mill right now, people were quietly shifting through the waiting room. I knew most of the doctors, nurses, and janitors by name now, and a few even let me eat in the break room, sharing some of the egg salad sandwiches that the lunch ladies and men thought to be too much on the patients. I really liked the nurses, they took care of me most of the time.

Although a few of the nurses kept trying to shuffle me from said hospital and offering rides to the police department. For the lack of better terms, this was the whole entire week. And yet all through that week.

They wouldn't let me see her body.

They wouldn't let me see her.

I just had to see her.

But they wouldn't let me, something about having legal papers for guardianship over me. They were trying to get some guardians over me, trying to get me huddled in with someone. Coddled more like it. I was eighteen! I could live by myself!

They just wouldn't let me see her! I wanted to see her! I just wanted to see her without that bed, without a casket, some pretty summer dress on her pale body. I wanted to see what she would look like without that stupid shit. I just wanted to see a pale body with a sheet on her body, pulled from a cold metal box. I just wanted to see her in a normal.. not get up kind of funeral get up.

Pitifully, I begged and begged, and it wasn't until Sheriff Stilinski showed up and told them to show me was when I finally saw her. Despite the Sheriff right next to me, I felt alone when the morgue shivered with the sound of the metal drawer opening. Her body was bare underneath the sheet that covered her head. When I uncovered her head, she still had small speckles of blood covering the edge of her mouth. There was a cough when I pulled it down from her breasts, towards her stomach that held the gashes. The blood was crackled upon her skin, and her skin was as pale as milk freshly milked, slightly yellowed from the source… and that of death.

I remember when she was tanner than this, whenever you would pinch her skin blood would flush towards it, making it red with irritation. When she was just out a few years out of high school, she brought me here with a dusting of red on her cheeks, distantly, I recalled that she said that all of the crime in this town was interesting, and we needed some kind of excitement in our lives. Something to spiff up from all the dreariness that Dad put on us down at the base.

Distantly, I heard Sheriff Stilinski vowing that he would get whoever had done this. Get who had done this? Why? I didn't want revenge, revenge led to the redemption of things I lost. I hadn't lost anything, I simply misplaced it. I didn't need this so called thing of redemption, for jealously and death just happen from such things. That's what happened to Dad, sure he's not dead, but he lost a many things, including Mom's love. But that's not important. For revenge is not important. That I was sure. Never would I allow it to consume me.

Ophelia's death would not consume me, and I was sure of that.

* * *

The first day of school and the rest were disappointing to say for the least, a few people acted weird when the cougar attacks came around, along with the dead body. But it didn't very much affect me, after seeing Ophelia cold and lifeless, I just didn't feel afraid. Sure, I imagined her when I saw the man get pulled from the bus. Yet that was it, a brief flash, and I felt nothing, not revenge, but overpowering grief.

Ophelia is gone, and nothing was to change that at all, I knew that much. But of course, I sometimes thought that perhaps I could change it, maybe just a little bit, ask her to stay home for a little bit longer. But I couldn't have asked that of her. She seemed so happy when she left, she kept mentioning the guy she had fallen for; saying that they had something planned, and that I would get a surprise once she got hers. I thought that maybe she was alluding to some kind of three-some, which of course I would deny that immediately. Sex just wasn't… my thing. Before we moved here when I was fifteen I'd had sex, I didn't like it and would be completely opposed to the idea, unlike Ophelia.

Ophelia was really weird that way. Weird in sex, from what she told me that is, from her musings and thoughts I mean.

I sighed, popping from my thoughts. I crossed the bottom of my legs, absently writing down the absences from the school today. The actual secretary was gone, maternity leave I think. But it was told by me when I graduated which was this year, that I would be offered the job, since the woman in question was stressed with a toddler that she herself could not handle a newborn and a toddler at the same time. When I told Dad that when he called, he praised me for already getting a job out of high school… even though I'm still in high school. Dad was just a strange person. He was also a little frightened when he learned that I was eighteen, and I could of course take care of myself. The sound of the principal leaving his office woke me up from my thoughts, he glanced at me, then at the absent sheet. I nodded slightly, showing him that I was at the very least, doing the T.A work. "I'll be going on my lunch break, see you in twenty minutes." He spoke calmly as he walked out, the guy was always longer than twenty, but he was kind of the president of the school in a way, besides, no one really needed him at the moment.

_Jacob Garret ,gone._

_Tj Reni, also gone._

_Ernest Qutich is here today. Check._

I sighed and leaned against my hand, falling asleep slightly with my thoughts. My eyes drooped and quietly I murmured against my hand at the lowered tone of the office phone ringing right next to me. It was only when I heard the door open that I jolted awake. Rubbing my eyes, I picked up the phone.

"Hello, this is Renee Remolds, I was wondering if any of the seniors of this year's graduating class are at school today?"

I sighed softy, and flipped through the papers on the desk, seeing that; they were in fact gone, and that Renee Remolds was the neighborhood busy body.

"Sorry Ma'm I cannot give information of students to unauthorized sources." I glanced up to see two students holding up a detention slip with sly grins. I rolled my eyes and pointed to four seats that they could sit at. Which they did, and they seemed to be whispering in soft tones as they watched me, not that I cared.

"Well, missy!" The woman blubbered on and on about them taking a senior skip day, and I sighed loudly into the phone.

"Ma'm." Then I rubbed my hand against my face, sighing again into the receiver. "I am a senior myself, and I can guarantee that if they are out that it is under control. I'm sorry, but I will now have to end this call as some students have shown up at the office. Good day."

I hung up immediately before the old neighborhood gossip was able to twist anymore words in.

"Wow, you're the epitome of kindness."

I moved my head and rolled my eyes at them, bending over in my rolley chair and opening a metal drawer and pulling out the application I had to make for detentions. Why this school decided to file everything compared to my last school was beyond me. I straightened up my back in my chair and brushed my plaid knee length skirt absent mindedly.

"Alright, need your names and which class the detention was for." Poised was my pencil over the names. Of course, they spoke in quick hurried actions of their names, mixed together but I caught them, so it was Scott and Stiles, I'd heard a bit about them from the swim team when I went to their practices to get a check on the equipment, mostly it was just Jackson bitching. Which I did give him credit for, they did sound pretty stupid from what he bitched constantly about.

"Teacher who sent you in?"

They grinned for a moment at each other and then in sync spoke the dreaded words of every student.

"Harris!"

I smacked my hand up against my forehead, curious as to why they were just so stupid. So very stupid.

"And what did you do for you to get detention slips?"

Stiles smiled with a wide grin. Moving a finger up. "First we mixed up the chemicals." He popped up another finger. "Took the rolls off of his chair." Another finger popped up, and a wicked grin grew on his face. "And glued all of his cupboards together!"

I wrote this down on Stiles paper and told the Scott file to reference said Stiles. I finished the paper with writing down the date and finishing off the paper with my signature. I set it aside in the pile of papers needed to be signed by the principal. With a yawn I covered my mouth and began doodling on a stray piece of printing paper. It was a shitty doodle, it was of a cartoon like image of mountains and trees. It was when I started adding a moon that I heard an intake of breath behind me. I spooked and jumped a feet in the air, harshly turning around behind me to see Stiles going through documents on the desk behind me.

Jumping up, I smashed into Scott who was practically a wall of steel. I bounced off him harshly and grabbed onto the desk behind me for support. He tried to grab my arm but once I had my balance I darted underneath his arm and grabbed Stiles.

"What are you doing?! You're supposed to sit down and wait for the principal!" I harshly whispered. I pulled a paper from his hand, and it was my file! Really?! "And don't go through files of students!"

I harshly opened the metal filing drawer with my files again and shoved them in. I stood up tall, one hand going to fix the white wide shouldered tank top that slipped a bit down my shoulder. It was one of Ophelia's. My feet spread against the ground to widen my stance and I squared my shoulders. Stiles grinned sheepishly and Scott simply stared at me with a quiet stare.

"Sit down in the chairs over there and be quiet! I can give detentions you know!"

I went behind Stiles and started pushing him towards the chairs with Scott following like a puppy. I breathed a harsh breath, glaring at them. Stiles seemed a bit sheepish and well Scott? I don't know what the hell he was trying to accomplish while Stiles looked through the folders.

I walked quietly back to my desk, heat coming off the back of my neck form being angry. I sat down with a soft whoosh from the padded chair the past secretary bought for said chair. My pencil was gripped harshly in my hand and I sighed loudly. Jeez, I seem to be doing that lately, but then again, it wasn't uncalled for.

"Just…" I saw Stiles try and get up and I glared at him while he slowly lowered himself in his seat. "What are you trying to do?" I lowered my tone, trying to be calm. I was going to be the secretary when I graduated this year, and I need to learn to be calm. I breathed in and out slowly. I need to be calm. "What were you trying to do?" I paused. "and with a file too?"

Stiles squirmed in his seat, and looked nervously at Scott who looked at him with the same look. Stiles himself began whistling and I raised a brow at the action. I gently drummed my hands across the desk while crossing my calves.

"Well…" Stiles drawled, his smirk lowering. "The seniors were skipping today, and since the T.A is a senior…"

I stopped him there, staring at him like I would at a little kid faking a cold. "You think I would skip school?" I scoffed and began sorting paperwork on the desk, separating the principal's piles into an orderly fashion that he would appreciate. He was anal, that was the most suitable thing he should be called, anal with paper signing that is.

"Well, aren't seniors supposed to?"

I glared at him. "I'm very serious about keeping my T.A position till after high school thank you." Yet still I didn't get my answers from the boy. "Which file were you looking for you huh?" I brought my hand to my mouth and chewed on my nail, nervous if they were actually looking at my file. School was kind of like a mini clinic with files, you could find out if someone had run away from home, had aids, it was all in here. God knows what he had seen when he picked up my own file, I could feel my body hyping up for nervousness that was beginning to jostle through my nerves. I was getting a strange look from Scott, and I tried to make my heartbeat go steady again, but it wasn't exactly as easy as that.

"Who's file?" I repeated, my cheeks flushing from nervousness now.

"Oh.. just Lydia Martin's." He said with his hand waving, acting nonchalant almost as if it didn't matter.

I grew startled that and found that my heartbeat was slowly going down, I rested a hand on my thigh happy that Lydia was popular compared to my small ass self. While I was appreciating this great discovery, Scott was whispering in Stiles ear, and while this happened I was happily gloating. When they turned to talk to me, the principal came in, looked at the two who grinned at him while he just groaned. He turned to me then and saw me flustered with bright cheeks and two files on the detentions in a pile. He walked over and picked them up, groaning again and lowering his glasses at them.

"What did Harris ever do to you two?"

They grinned and elbowed each other, snickering.

* * *

I shuffled the last of the papers on the desk, rubbing my stone necklace without a thought. It was Opehlias, and when I smelled the leather cord it was around sometimes, I could almost smell her. It made me smile sometimes. And sometimes was all I needed to remember her. I smiled stupidly as I grabbed my backpack, swinging it over my arms and holding it by the straps as I got up and left.

Obviously no one would be at school an hour after the bell rung. I was just special like that I suppose. Filing new detentions just caused that to happen.

That and new principals, my anal signing one left suddenly only for a Gerard Argent to come in? It was weird, except for maybe those idiots who came into the office when Jackson came in was just.. hectic, I was filing papers and told not to pay attention… strange I tell you.

With a contented smile on my face, I walked out the front doors.

Only to be blasted by a boy and almost tipping over. Stiles grabbed my shoulders and steadied me and I wobbled dangerously, slightly dizzy. The front lawn moved a little bit from my wobbles but they were quieted when I saw Stiles in front of me. I tilted my head when I looked at. Surprise, surprise. Stiles, but no Scott? I startled and flinched away from his touch. He sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck with a gleeful smile.

What were with these kids? Did they really need to continuously bother me today? They never paid any attention to me before this time. And I've seen them before, of course I didn't know their names that well whenever I saw them before now, but that couldn't be helped when I barely talked to them anyhow.

"We need your help." Stiles voice brushed me out of my revere of thinking and I stared at him curiously, hitching my backpack higher up on my shoulder. My straight brown hair flew behind my shoulders for a moment when a breeze went by. Stiles must have felt lonely with his short hair though.

I blinked quickly when he began waving a hand in my face"Hey, did I break you?"

I put my hands up and backed up. "No, I'm fine, it's just… why would you need my help?" This was just a little bit too weird for me, Ophelia herself would have most likely jumped on the spot for this.

"We need files." Stiles spoke this with rapidly moving hands.

I glowered at him, my curiosity gone. "Are you that serious about getting Lydia Martins file? It's not that important."

Stiles scoffed and made a face that was most likely trying to disregard what I said. I raised my brow, now curious into what they wanted from me this time, first Lydia Martins file, which I was possessively hiding in the office with the key to it situated in my pocket.

"No, no, no. We're talking about the police department."

Now that was curious, very curious. I took a step forward and watched him carefully. "Why would you need me there then? The police department is easy enough to get into." I glanced around and spied a tree over in the distance, and then took to watching it, when I turned back; Stiles was gaping like a fish.

"Easy to get into!" He shrilled, I backed up, knowing I said something wrong to set him off. "Sure! Let's just get into there! No problem!" He then stopped his yelling and stopped suddenly, watching me with narrowed eyes. "How do you know how to get in the police department?" His body sashayed up to me with a sad impression of a jungle cat looking for prey, pointing his finger at me.

I shrugged, slightly nervous of him digging too much. "Oh, you know, been there a lot in my day." I smiled softly, brushing my hand over my necklace, drawing comfort from it. I didn't really like the police department. Not that Sheriff Stilinski wasn't a horrible person or anything. The place wasn't that big of a thing for memories with people, especially those who have dead sisters. "But why do you need to get in there?"

Stiles flustered up quickly and began moving around nervously on his feet. "Well, I don't really need your help, I just need you to prank call them a whole bunch, nothing much really!" He then wrung his hands out in front of him, whistling with almost innocence.

Prank call?! He wants me to prank call the police department?! "No!" I yelled loudly, and shrunk from him when I actually heard myself yell that loud, could I really yell that loud? The boy next to me seemed pretty surprised when I did that too.

"SHHH, they're could be people around!" he looked around suspiciously for a moment before looking at me again.

I glared at the time and he meekly revolted behind his moles. "I can't just do that to the police department Stiles!" I clenched my fists and my glare seemed to penetrate him deeper, I could almost imagine dragging it out by stepping on it like a cockroach in animal crossing and watching the little sprite float up. "They have my phone number on file! I can't just up and prank call, they'll think something wrong with me and come…" I stopped suddenly, my eyes growing wide when I saw a flabbergasted expression on his face.

His eyes slowly watched me and he stepped forward a little bit, curiosity seemingly floating off his frame… not that of a sprite though, damn it. "Why do they have your phone number on file Jamie?" He paused. "Did something.."

I cut him off sharply and tried to throw my harshest glare at him, one hand holding my backpack strap and the other trying to find my key chain in my skirt pocket. "That's none of your business Stilinski, now good day!"

I hurriedly walked to my truck that was at one of the front spots and hurriedly grabbing to door that creaked when I opened it. I didn't like feeling grief whenever someone dug to close to earlier this year during the summer. I didn't like it at all.

* * *

As I drove home, my thoughts invaded my brain tiredly, even as I pulled up and went through a monotone routine, and when I was in my bed, clothed only in a big shirt and underwear my brain ran wild. Grief seemed to soak into my bones, making me ache softly on top of the guest bedrooms sheets. I wanted her to come and comfort me, bring me closer into her embrace and kiss me and hold me while I cried. I wanted her fleshy arms to contort around me as her lips parted and spoke of her love. But she was dead, I was bitter, and her lover never turned up.

I just wanted some place of comfort to draw myself in, and I was doubting that filing papers for the rest of the year waiting for graduation was going to help.

So I sat up, clawed for the phone.

"Jamie?" Sheriff Stilinski tired voice spoke from the phone, and I swear I could hear something crash in the background, this sound was accompanied by the sigh of the sheriff.

"Can I just… speak with you for a bit? Is that all right? I just don't feel alright." I spoke softly, not wanting to leave the conversation, the sound of the mans voice was comforting, and I made sure to tell him that.

"Want to hear the usual?" He spoke with a softness that I'd only heard from my mother, and I could feel my muscles unwind and I relaxed on my side on the bed, my hair splayed choppily behind me in a brown mass.

"Thank you, that would be the best." A smile glittered upon my face.

I could hear Stiles in the background, asking something about a call from the department, some worry fleshing itself in his tone. The man didn't give him any acknowledgment that I could hear.

"Today, I took a patrol over near the reserve, routine of course, and there were some seniors form your class, the whole lot was drunk…"

And I fell asleep to the comforting sounds of a tired, worried Sheriff.

* * *

I am going to assume in the first/second season that Scott and Stiles are Sophomores. I've tried looked around, and in my brief search, I just found show summaries. Nothing relatable to school grade. Sixteen years is what I found, since I am of that age, then I must automatically assume they are in my grade, unless.. they are smart… which.. uh, by the show, not really.

Sorry also that Jamie is really depressing right now, I mean, who wouldn't? I would be utterly heartbroken if my sister up and died on me. So if you feel it's unrealistic, please take that into consideration. There is also the fact that its unresolved murder like thing.

Also, the only reason I started writing this fic is because I came up with an idea that connects her to the characters but not in the twin or sister/brother fashion that most I see. Sure, those are fine in their own right, but sometimes it gets boring and feels like you are seeing and using everyone's ideas. I'm not ashamed that I have some of those I've written myself hidden in my computers hard drive.

But enough of my blather, have a nice time reading, have a nice day/nights dude/dudettes!

Fun fact! I spelled Scotts name wrong almost the whole entire time for this chapter. Ahh. –sighs dreamily- spell check and me are my OTP. Also this chap is written a little weird because I didn't have acess to a summary of the episode, so some of the finer points were not filed out, I'm sorry. I tried to squeeze in those plot points and of course fixed a whole part of this chap to make sure people were at the right place at the right time.


	3. Grief

A horrible feeling clawed up my throat, soon to be thrown into the toilet of my yellowed sixties bathroom. I was sick, nothing to it at all. My body just wasn't feeling right lately, every time I ate something, I had a churning feeling, as if the seas were crashing and throwing themselves at my stomach walls.

I just didn't feel good.

And that's why I stayed home. I just wanted to feel normal, like myself for once, no aching in my stomach and acidic taste in the back of my throat, and especially the clenching of my heart. It has gone down though, and simply the thought and feel of it made me happy, elated with feelings.

I twisted in my sheets, my blankets twisting around my bare thighs and the bottom of my stomach. The frilly part of my underwear irritated the top of my hip bone, causing my nails to rake across it constantly in a hoping to smooth down the irritation. My long straight hair was coarse to my fingers as my hands brushed through it to keep down the knots in my hair. I hadn't had time to call the school today, it was only nine o' clock though, I'm sure Gerard would be considerate enough to show some compassion to me falling over a toilet with a grumbling stomach.

I screwed my eyes shut tightly, my hand pulling itself against my bed bringing my body up further towards the sky. My feet were heavily plopping towards the kitchen towards the corded phone that was obviously a scathing dull yellow that matched the wallpaper in various parts of the house. My hand wiped a layer of dust off the phone, since I mostly used the corded personal phone right next to my bed on the floor. Everyone mostly knew the phone number of the one I was currently dialing on, since it was the phone in which everyone knew, and the number I gave to everyone. I curled the swirly cord around my finger and leaned against the wall, humming a scratchy tone under my breath while the phone rang.

"Beacon Hills High School, This is Victoria Argent speaking." Her voice was happy and I rose a brow at the friendliness from the woman. I know her daughter; all she could talk about were boys whenever we got grouped for the, 'whoops, your close family member got murdered, hey let's sit next to each other when teachers tell us to.'

I smiled shyly although no one was with me. "This is Jamie Erne."

A small sigh erupted from the other side and I frowned, friendly to smoldering in a moment?

"Jamie it is? The T.A who hasn't showed up today hmmm?"

The deathly curl of her voice caused a shiver to be pulled from me, and slight gurgle came from my throat. She felt like a dragon who blew smoke around you to confuse you and scare you even more.

"I'm calling in because I woke up sick this morning, I'd like to inform you that I will not be attending my T.A classes today. My apologies that I woke later than usual." I made a deep humbling sound and tried to act like I was not affected from her tone, I sounded quite haughty though, which made me wrinkle my nose.

"Hmm." She made a softer sound. "A scratch get you dear? Those can be nauseating sometimes, and you of course would know?"

I recoiled in shock from her statement, feeling the grief edging itself around my throat, clawing my skin to ribbons. I threw the phone on the hanger and backed up, my lower back hitting the counter edge with a firm jolt. I felt my throat choke further and I rushed to the toilet, choking up water and acid from deep within.

Small chattering's of birds awoke my from the cool tile of the floor, a sheen of dried sweat made my body feel itchy and everything ached. I gently lifted myself from the floor, feeling my muscles quiver. My hair stuck to the back of my neck with my hands swatting at it with a feeling of annoyance. My underwear was pulled down to where a small bit of my pubic hair was peeking from the cheap blue material. Part of my large shirt was down my shoulder and I growled at it while I pulled it up. My hipbones jutted sharply at my palm as I slowly pulled up my underwear, standing up.

Distantly in my ringing ears, I heard the telephone crying and I lugged my feet towards it. It was the personal. So that means I had to answer it, usually if I ignored it when someone knew I was home, they came running over to the house. Must have thought I fell over in grief or something. Lazily I kicked a shirt into the corner of my room and yawned, picking up the cordless phone and clicking the talk button.

"..It's just me Stiles calling and, oh hey!"

I slapped a hand on my forehead and sat down on my bed, pulling my feet under me as I laid my forehead against the cool wall. "Why are you calling my personal phone Stilinski, and…" I growled lowly under my breath, shifting slightly with my calves underneath me. "How the hell did you get this number?"

"Well!" His chattering became loud and I rubbed my temple, aching for this headache to be gone, better than puking on the floor though. "I just went through dad's call history and found the contact that said Erne, it easy! But anyhow, I was wondering that maybe.."

I cut him off, raising one hand in a slicing motion through the air. "You went through your Dads phone just to call me, why?!" Slight fizzling anger pulled through my skin, heating the air around my already sweaty body.

"Well!" He made a chattering noise, and I guessed he liked to use the word well quite a lot. "If you would let me tell you, I would be glad to answer." He paused, and I heard a great intake of breath on his end, and as if my silence was the answer to continuing his speech, he spoke loudly and quickly. "Coach Finstock told me to tell you to get your ass in gear and all that great stuff ya know? He said you had paperwork that the one lady at the office couldn't do. But anyhoo…" He trailed off and I groaned softly into the phone which made him grow panicked on the other side of the phone for some reason. "hey, hey wait, are you okay? Is something wrong, did you get scratched?"

I bolted forward again and growled lowly into the phone, my voice vibrating with anger. "What the **fuck**, did you just say?!"

Silence reigned over it while I panted heavily in anger, my chest coming up and down in a convulsing fashion.

"Since your sister was…" He squeaked and I went absolutely livid, first that Victoria Argent and now Stilinski?!

"Just stop right there you asshole! You don't go speaking about Ophelia like she was just killed by a god fucking damn _scratch_! She died by a giant wound on her stomach, bet you didn't see that in the fucking police reports since you Dad locked em' up huh?! Nothing fucking scratched me either Stilinski! Fuck you and Argent! Stop fucking screwing with my life and leave me the fuck alone!"

My face was red as I panted and I dropped the phone like lava had touched me, steam rolling across my lips like a dragon breathing fire against his nestled hideout of gold and jewels as I got up and stormed out of the room. Distantly I think I could hear some muffled voice coming from the phone, but I was just too angry, Stiles fucking Stilinski did not deserve to talk to me.

"Stiles fucking Stilinski, fucking screwing with my entire life, go fuck yourself in some god damn fiery pit of hell while I get the fuck out of here." I walked into the living room with determined steps, my feet thumping heavily against the old worn stained hardwood floor. I grabbed some discarded shorts that I had thrown on sometime this week and pulled a sweatshirt that smelled of the, crisp, eye burning, dry cleaner over my head, the small zipper pulled down to where a small part of my pale breasts showed slightly from my tank top. "Fucking assholes, and their mother fucking stupid Beacon Hills." I stomped down the cement steps towards the truck, pulling the door open harshly and hopping in, my bare thighs pulling harshly against the cracked leather of the single cab truck.

As soon as I shakily put the key in the ignition I was speeding down the highway with a furious expression on my face. My goal was nowhere of course, just to blow off steam and various other thoughts that I just wanted to throw. My face was tinted a horrible shade of pink in the rear view mirror, and my foot rarely pressed on the brake as I sped towards the reserve, I felt ringing in my ears my body turning the wheel in a quick sharp manner as I tried to sort my thoughts into something that would not get me babbling inside a jail cell.

Why am I going to the reserve? Well because that's were all seniors go right? When they're skipping school and getting drunk? Making out with their boyfriend or something. But there shouldn't be anyone there today, they're all in detention and being beat with a belt at home. I was driving hunched over, and I swear I could feel the bags under my eyes dragging themselves down towards my lap. The cool metal of the zipper touched the skin above my breast, making me shiver slightly my hands twitching on the steering wheel.

The small opening that looked over Beacon Hills was covered in trash. A lone plastic bag flew off from a tree when I pulled up. The engine being cut sharply off when I jerked the keys out, my bare feet touched the ground as I sat on the edge of the hill, seeing cars moving and people leaving the parking lot of the hospital in all terms of manner, lights flashing with their speed, and slow blinkers turning lazily off to the road. My bare thigh touched a shard of glass on the ground and I picked it up when it pricked me, a small hiss erupting from my lips as I threw the shard over the hills. Quick harsh breaths leaving my cracked lips.

"Whatever did that piece of glass ever do to you?" A deep, rumbling voice awakened me and I turned quickly, my eyes darting to see nothing but the litter of high school parties. I stood quickly, squaring my feet and turning around harshly in circles, looking for the voice I swore I heard.

"Stop sneaking around like a creep." I whispered under my breath, my eyes darting millions of ways, looking for anything that could hint at something.

"I'm not." I jumped, looking behind me at the tall man who spoke at me, he was behind me? But how? I was turning around this whole time. I stepped back and he stepped forward. I didn't like this situation, he was buff, that much I could tell, and my heart was beating furiously. He was eyeing me in my fleeting anger, his face examining the small prick of blood on the side of my leg, the redness on my cheeks and the blotchiness of my neck.

"Then just in what hell are you doing?" My voice turned low, curiosity beaming from me, overpowering the anger I felt for Stilinski. I took another foot back, yet he didn't try and follow me like last time. Surprisingly this made me feel a little nervous instead of happy. Did he want to make me feel safe from him not approaching? And if he's trying to do that, it's not working at all, in fact, it's making me feel worse.

The man turned slightly, looking towards Beacon Hills as I watched him silently, his hands were behind his back like one of those high level security guys in movies. "I'm going to talk to you, if that's alright, Jamie?"

I recoiled slightly, flinching at my name being called by the man. My heart spluttered at the fear I felt, a man I didn't know knew my name? Creepy, weird, and of course frightening. "Wha.." I tried to speak, but he shushed me, its.. well, his body is attractive slid up to me, strangely my own didn't cower from it.

"Shhhh, Ophelia would have wanted this for you, she would have wanted you to know why she died."

Anger, it was elicited in the strangest of times when her name was brought up. This was not one of those times, for the fire was already burnt from Stilinski's frightening awareness of her death, even if it was just a little bit.

"What would she have wanted?" I whispered under my breath, staring at the man who was offering me so much I didn't know about my sister, so much that I wanted to know about her death. My straight brown hair fluttered behind me, catching on the metal on the back of my neck from the necklace I wore.

"She would have wanted you to know how she lived and died."

The ominous foreshadowing in those words scared me, making a shiver be brought forth from my bones and quivering muscles.

* * *

Dirty ground had marred my bottom through the talk of werewolves and hunters. Blood had clotted on my wound, and a scab was barely beginning to form. Derek was gone and I sat in my truck, laying down and looking at the stars form the window shield. I was shivering slightly from the cold that clung to my sweaty skin full of sickness and fear. I had been gone from home all day now, and well into the night.

I had learned finally how Ophelia had died, and lived.

A late night meeting with a scarred man named Peter Hale, Derek's uncle and late Alpha. He was the man who had introduced my sister to this strange world, and from small clues, it seems he had turned her, and the bite did not take. Festering her body with pain as she stumbled into our home, bleeding the blood of a werewolf bite. Her death caused by a man who had known the consequences, yet despite this continued without a care.

When Derek had left, he offered me to be part of his growing pack. Isaac, a budding youth who had an abusive father, and soon, a young girl named Erica, and after that, a boy who I had watched eat at lunch called Boyd.

I felt sick, from despair and pain of the reason of losing Ophelia, the real reason of her death finally realized and the pain striking me in the soul and heart. I was no better than her when she was dying, I was lost, and I was a soul.

I had not accepted the bite, I had no reason, not redemption or sick fascination to see if I survived to roam like my sister had wanted. Even if I had no reason, I cried from the loss of a door to get me closer to the ever dead sister of mine. And I threw it away without a thought, and it sickened me.

I was pulled from my stupor from a blanket thrown on my cold body and warm arms hugging me. Sheriff Stilinski, I wanted to hug him back, I really did. But I clutched his uniform, the blaring red and blue lights with other officers blazing behind me and blinding my watery eyes. Gasping I held onto his body, my tears soaking his uniform, his hands grasping the back of my loose sweatshirt like my Dad. His whispers were comforting as I was shimmied into my passenger seat, grasping furiously as the man who was worriedly trying to comfort my unknown tears. Softly, I could hear the worried voices of Stiles and Scott approaching asking if I was hurt, asking if something was wrong. They were cast away from what I guessed were glares, and a stern sea of words I had no use of remembering, I slowly was brought to the hospital to be cured for small shakes that they were utterly sure were the starting of hypothermia. Everyone fidgeted around me, sure I was going to break in a million pieces and start cracking on the uncomfortable bed that I was pulled into. Honestly, I thought I was too.

Although was I questioned from my sudden disappearance and not answering of phone calls?

Of course.

Was I coddled by Sheriff Stilinski and pulled into his house and into his care?

Yes, and I was glad.

* * *

Sorry about the cursing, I don't pertain to my characters at all and I'm sorry if Jamie offended anyone. Characters/people sometimes need to curse out their grievances, and that's how it is. Merp, she's broken, so why wouldn't Derek get all cuddly with her? Cuddly in a new werewolf sense that is of course. –bite bite, cuddle cuddle, bite bite.-

Thank you for reading and have a good day.

Oh and pairings? Merp, it's not Derek, despite the obvious attraction that was displayed in the chapter, I plan on getting down and dirty with pairing soon, so just wait a lil bit longer if you interested in that aspect of the story.


	4. Regret

_"You know, I really liked you when you were born. Smelled weird of course, but you were red and soft, and your nails hurt like a son of a bitch when you clawed me!" _

_We giggled softly by the pond in the woods that was filled with green murky water, and salamanders trying to squiggle through our feet. Ophelia cursing under her sixteen year old breath. This caused my own pudgy six year old hands to grip my brown pants while my giggles became louder. Ophelia couldn't help it and began letting out a honking laugh that rivaled that of a goose. I began my snorts and it seemed like a barnyard was trying to explode._

_"Mmm, sorry for corrupting your little brain." She smiled and ruffled my head. "Should we start catching salamanders and you can scare Mom while I snatch the cookies off the counter, sound good?"_

_I had already began splashing into the water, causing my airy shirt to begin wet with splashed while my bottoms had already soaked through. Goose noises created melodies with my pig snorts throughout the day._

* * *

I didn't stutter out of my sleep like most, I woke gently, like a wave crashing upon the shore in the almost non-existent breeze of the summer. My body had an achy feeling from waking up from a stationary position on the Stilinski boy's couch. I don't know what woke me up, there wasn't the sound of Sheriff Stilinski making coffee, and there wasn't the sound of his shady son taking a shower. I slowly lifted myself up, feeling the clothes the nurses so kindly gave me at the hospital crinkle around my midsection. Those woman knew me enough that they had clothes stashed, that was kind of sad.

I snorted and slowly departed from my warm nest, allowing the heat to seep outside and for the cold to embrace me with goose bumps. I curiously looked around and rubbed my hair, feeling an array of knots touch the base of my skull. It would be easily cured by a minute of tugging with my hands, but I didn't much feel like it. I left the couch and felt the plushness of the carpet seep into my toes as I emerged into the kitchen to harsh tile to find something to eat. Good thing it was a weekend, don't think I could have dragged myself outside to go deal with secretary shit, Sheriff Stilinski would most likely cover me though.

I opened the fridge and hunched over to look at any leftovers the two men might have left. Meatloaf? God… there was small collection of beer on one of the side shelves that caught my eye, but I scoffed. Must have a toaster around, last time I remember making toast at the Stilinski house the toaster tried to keep my toast. Maybe one of the ladies at the department made home-made bread that I always hear over the nightly phone conversations I sometimes pick up? I shut the door with a slam to make sure it sealed and turned around to look for bread only for my arm to be tightly gripped. I yelped loudly and for it only to have a hand placed around my mouth.

"SHHHHHH." The sound of the two boys made my anger flare, and I jerked my arm out of one of their arms, one tightly held onto me. And I reached a hand over and tried to pull it slowly by one finger at a time, obviously did not work.

"What's the diagnosis Scott?" I heard sniffing and glared harshly at the cheeky child of the sheriff who was trying to man handle me or something, well he was a weakling, might as well leave it to his able bodied guard dog! I threw my other hand in the air.

"She smells like blood and Derek."

And there's the fucking goal. For some reason the glass puncture and Derek were their main goal in this giant scheme was there a reason Derek was important? All he did was talk to me, about werewolves… I jolted and suddenly felt my heart begin to beat a mile a minute, a small sweat beginning to pool on my neck. They shouldn't know about wolves, I mean, Derek mentioned this was all a very secret, secret thing. Even the Hunters had backups of just having these guns for military background or for sport. I broke from my thoughts for second and glanced at the boys who now noticed my tense posture. I bolted back to my thoughts, feeling my spine creak at the mere idea of a tenser pose I was trying to adapt. Okay, I need a cover story and now, and then he'll stop smel-…..

Wait… how does he smell me?

I broke from my thoughts again and glared at the curly haired boy named Scott, he flinched and tried to get out of my sights by placing a Stiles in front of me. I almost sighed in relief when he let go of my arm the feeling of his nails digging harshly into my skin was a horrible feeling, worse than the feel of the glass against my thigh last night.

"So, I was wondering, do you think I smell bad or something like that?"

Scott and Stiles looked at each other for a moment, just with confused expressions on their faces. It didn't last long until Scott's face dropped and he backed up, Stiles grabbed his arm and started harshly whispering in his ear, most likely asking what was happening since his own face dropped. Then I saw them turn around, Stiles began to open his mouth, most likely to create some excuse I heard muttered over the phone by his Dad.

"Cut the shit Stiles." I crossed my arms and nodded my head at the both of them, watching both of their crestfallen expressions. "You into it too? Derek come and do some big inspirational speech with you too?" I sneered at their horrified questions and it seemed that Scott was trying to sniff the air even harsher now. I glared at him, hoping I was the Goron called Medusa, and he was an idiot and turned to stone in my lair. "What, you accept it too?" I brought a hand and pointed at Scott. "And you?" I pointed towards Stiles who looked to be chocking on his spit. Scott seemed to make a slow approach to me, his hands in front of him. I stepped back one step as he made one forward.

"Derek didn't explain everything did he? He didn't tell you how bad this stuff can get. Now just, don't get mad." He slowly moved his hands down into what looked like a calming fashion.

"Oh, don't get mad?" I threw my hands in the air, and I swear I could feel the steam flowing through my nose and ears. "I'm fuming!"

Now, I was easy to get mad, and that would have been a great fault in getting the bite. I didn't used to be like this thought, I used to be a nice little girl, catching frogs and salamanders in the pond near our house. I used to be happy and full of life, I used to be scared, and scared is what I was now when he began getting ready for a fight he would never get.

His face began a transformation that scared the shit out of me, the hair growing and his nails elongating from his hand, curving slightly. I could see budges from behind his skin showing fangs that looked about ready to tear into me. My pupils dilated and tunnel vision that I used to get when running from the boys in my neighborhood came back. All I saw was his face, a face that was slowly morphing back into a normal soft faced boy with horror marring his skin. I crouched quickly and buried my head into my arms, my mouth letting out a loud yell, or scream, I was not sure. All I remembered was rocking back and forth, letting out this little sounds. That face, it reminded me of images I had never been able to conceive when Ophelia died. I'd imagined a mountain lion for awhile, but it never came to fruit. But I imagined a face that Derek had showed me, a face of his uncle from when he was younger. I could see the teeth and the nails and fear begin to consume me. Should I have taken Derek's advice and take the bite, able to become what Scott and Stiles have become?

I flinched, feeling hands touch my back in a manner that would have been seen as comforting, I kicked out and felt it connect with Scotts stomach, his breath leaving his mouth in a whoosh. I had fallen on my butt, one cheek on the floor while the other was crookedly held up with a bent leg. I crawled backwards fast and opened a cupboard quickly, finding a wooden spoon to be my object of defense. Scott had gotten up, seemingly recovering very quickly, he tried to approach with a calm, measured steps. But I waved the wooden spoon around with a revealing of my white teeth for warning.

This was the situation that Sheriff Stilinski walked in on. Scott holding up his hands while I was cornered in the kitchen with that stupid wooden spoon. The man just sighed loudly and stepped in-between us with measured steps that made my tense muscles melt like butter in a microwave. His calm voice resonated through the room, and distantly, I could recall him saying that I was to be left alone, I'd been through a trying night and that I was staying here for a little awhile, and for god sakes, just leave me alone.

I don't like werewolves, I had decided that then.

* * *

_"Meh!"_

_I poked my head from the long grass stalks, my hair puffed from being brushed while it was dry. Over in the distance Ophelia was throwing up tufts of rabbit fur that was shed this summer in the rabbit hutch our family owned. The rabbits didn't last long for Ophelia went into a save the helpless animals faze a month after we got them and released them into the woods. Ophelia currently had a tuft of hair stuck over her lip as a moustache and the rest was hazardly placed on her collar bone and on her head. The down fur floating off softly only for it to be smacked back on with her hand._

_"Whatcha doing?" I trotted over to where she was, only for a hand to slap some downy fur in my own hair, my sneeze permeating through the air when a stray hair floated down and tickled my nose. My chubby arms grasped onto the bottom of her pants, grasping her leg with what she called my razor finger nails._

_"Hmm, you know, just playing around. Mom and Dad won't know if we threw this away like they asked us to. For all they could know is that some animal got its fur ripped out right here."_

_I looked up at her, curiously watching her. "But won't that be a sin?"_

_Her chuckle reached softly into my ears like the music box sitting in my room to help me sleep. "Nothings a sin, for we all have reason to the things we do." Her finger pointed at me, her brows furrowed deeply into her eyes, her blonde hair leaving wisps around her eyes from her braid coming slightly undone. _

_"Mom said that…"_

_She growled under her breath. "I don't care what Mom says, she's wrong. We do things for a reason, no matter if it's a sin. Just you remember that, and we'll be fine when I take you out of this shit city and to a better town without Mom and Dad mowing on us."_

_I nodded slightly to her and wrapped myself tighter on her leg, gaining comfort from her presence that was always there._

I sighed softly, remembering the life lessons Ophelia taught me back at our old house with our parents. Her tricks at making sure Mom and Dad didn't find out what we did out back were the highlight of the days. She was so stupid and wise back then. Beacon Hills changed her for better, got rid of some of her stupidity, not much though.

I yawned in my hand, thumbing through a police report Sheriff Stilinski sat me down in the chair of his office while he was working on some kind of paperwork. I didn't really care much for reports, all I was thankful for was that he took me away from those two idiots who were bothering me horribly and with a insisting air around them. With a soft audible sigh, I leafed through the report.

_Mayella Lewis arrested for drug trafficking and prostitution in downtown Beacon Hills._

I gently traced my hand over the picture of the woman who didn't look like a druggie at all, maybe a little bit of a whore with the smudged makeup around her lips, but that was it. I leafed through it again, finding where she was arrested and at the areas she was most found at. Not interesting in a case its self, but then again, it was simply interesting when you hadn't actually seen or noticed things like this.

But what I was wondering, what drove this woman this low to attempt this stuff? She certainly didn't seem like she was doing it for money, she seemed to have enough to buy drugs. Did she do it for something, or just her own pleasure? I stopped questioning her when I saw the child adoption papers for a teenager copied into the file. I flinched and felt a horrible feeling claw up my throat. Was she trying to help this kid? Was she trying to get it back?

Before I knew what I was doing, I spoke. "Stilinski, what causes people to do things they don't want to do?" I stared down at the folder in my hands, flipping through it and feigning ignorance. I could hear his sigh, and his thumb rubbing at his chin in thought, the scratch emanating through the room.

"Money, food, survival, obligation, regret. It's mostly those, can't think of what else a person would do something they don't want to do." He paused, and I took a glance at him, seeing his eyes watching me curiously. "Why do you ask?"

I fidgeted, and I heard the offer of the bite resonating through my brain, I didn't want redemption, I just wanted protection. A sense of security. What if a werewolf tried to attack me? I could fight back. I could protect myself like Ophelia.

But I could die. This is why I needed Stilinski, he was an advice expert. "I was, thinking about doing something, and I was… wondering why I wanted to do it. It could change my life drastically if I did it, and I-…"

The man cut me off quickly with an air of concern dotting his brow and eyes. "I wouldn't know why you would do it Jamie, are you doing it for money?" I shook my head. "By obligation?" I shook again. "Regret?" I stopped, and stared down at my hands touching my pants, did I regret Ophelia that I definitely felt the need to become what she wanted to become? Yes.

"I… think so." Stilinski was the advice king, and I was sure of that. He was an easy person to talk to, and it made me feel less alone in the world. "I think I want to do it because Ophelia would have wanted it." I spoke softly. Twiddling my thumbs in my lap, I felt my hair brush softly against my neck, caressing it as it fell over my shoulders and down to my breasts.

"How do you regret that?"

I shook my head and sighed loudly, standing up, I need to get out and back home. "I don't really know. I just do." I paused and smoothed my shirt out. "I need to go home and get ready for school. Just…" I looked at the man who was curiously watching me, I smiled at him. "Thank you."

I only took a glance at his desk when I was leaving, but I saw it clear as day. Ophelia's dead body was showing her glazed eyes and bloodied lips, and right next to that, was a picture of Ophelia and Me smiling at a camera, right next to a picture frame, ready to framed.

"You're welcome!" I heard the yell as I closed the door and began the short walk home.

* * *

Yeah, I screwed up on her moving age here to Beacon Hills, just ignore that. Here's the ages for the story.

Ophelia is nine years older

So six year old Jamie is Sixteen year old Ophelia in the flashbacks.

10 years ago they came to Beacon Hills, Ophelia was 18/17, Jamie was 10/9.

Oh and, have a good day and or night!


End file.
